Be With Me
by KaKiara
Summary: In which the Force is with Rey, always. (An extra post-movie scene that works through where Ben and Rey's relationship left off. Canon-compliant, uplifting and happy. Designed to help anyone who needs it work through the ending in a positive way.) Spoilers for The Rise of Skywalker.


**Title**: Be With Me

**Summary: **In which the Force is with Rey, always.

**Spoilers for The Rise of Skywalker**.

* * *

It had been a long time since she'd been alone on Jakku. A long time since her only company had been the blistering midday heat, or the freeze of a desert night. A long time since she had been truly alone.

After burying Luke and Leia's lightsabers, she knew there was one more desert that she had to return to. It was time to let old things rest.

She pulled her cloak tighter around her as she trudged through shifting sands away from Luke's x-wing and towards a familiar bump on the horizon. Stars glittered above her. Dawn was a little way's off, and a chill still lingered in the air. She tread the same path she had travelled thousands of times until she arrived at her old home. Passing sandstorms had deposited mounds of sand all around the abandoned AT-AT. Eventually, it would be buried under the sand, too.

With a sweeping gesture of her hand, the sand that blocked the hatch in the AT-AT's belly slid away. The screech of unoiled hinges broke the cold air as she convinced the door to open.

Inside was dark. She activated her lightsaber—it's hum a welcome companion in the desert silence—and stepped into the centre of the room, taking everything in.

'Had her home always been this small?' she wondered.

Sand coated the floor, dusted the shelves, and had settled into the grooves of her equipment. Her saber cast warm light over all of it, making the sand sparkle as she turned on the spot.

The dried stems of desert flowers still sat in their little metal cup on her shelf. Their red petals had long since crumbled and blown away on the gusts that sometimes swept through the damaged machine. Her resistance helmet was tucked neatly underneath her hammock, waiting for someone to return and play pretend once more.

Had the wall always been so big?

She lifted her saber higher to see all the way to the top. So many scratches. So many days of loneliness. Seeing them brought back intensely visceral memories. Eating portions with her resistance doll who never spoke back. Stargazing from atop the AT-AT, wondering which star system her parents would return from. Staring out at the endless waves of sand. Unchanging and always empty. Endless days and nights of waiting.

A quietness—like the opposite of a tremor—settled into the force.

"_You won't be alone again_," his voice promised.

"I know," she whispered back, out loud as well as through the force. The first time, she hadn't been quite sure how to communicate back, but she thought she was getting the hang of it.

It had been... unusual, getting used to voices in her head. She was still figuring out how it worked. They seemed to come when she was in need, and who came depended on what help she needed. A thousand generations of Jedi had helped her defeat her grandfather. Master Luke and Master Leia had been the witnesses she had needed to close their story on Tatooine and accept herself as a Skywalker.

She was glad he was here.

"All these memories," she murmured. "I feel them so deeply yet at the same time, it feels like they happened to someone else. Another me." She ran her fingertips over the scratches. Touched every row, every mark. "Thank you for making me remember how strong my parents were."

"_I could say the same to you."_

She smiled at that. "I told my friends. About my family. They were... fine with it. Finn understood."

"_Having others accept you can be harder than accepting yourself."_

She thought of his words in the throne room of Death Star. How he felt he couldn't return to his mother because of everything he had done. How Leia had still reach out to him. How he was with her now.

"In some ways, yes. I'm glad I told them."

She looked around the tiny room. A single hammock for one. A single-portion hydrator. A workbench with just enough room for one scavenger to sit and scrub salvaged parts of other people's treasures. She had built a home in a place meant for war.

"I want to close this chapter of my life," she said to herself, to him, to the walls that had kept her safe.

She held out her lightsaber. It's warm hum and golden light brought life to the otherwise deserted room. Like the heat spilling out of her lightsaber, she felt the warmth of his presence flowing out of the force, there with her.

She steadied herself and slowly pushed the tip of her saber into the wall. The metal crackled and hissed as it melted. Glowing red bubbles grew then collapsed as the liquefied metal started to drip down the wall.

It didn't take long. She wasn't there to destroy the wall.

She pulled her saber back to reveal a round hole, rapidly cooling, at the end of the last row of scratches.

He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. She knew she didn't need someone to give her the strength to move on—she had that strength within her. But it was nice to have someone who understood loneliness witness this end.

She took one last look around the small space. There was no room to continue tallying her loneliness. No wondering how many more rows it would take until she had a family again. The tally had ended.

Maz had been right. The belonging she had sought had lain ahead of her. She could feel it within her now. She let out a breath, said her thank yous and goodbyes to this little space that had kept her safe, and walked back to the hatch. One hand on the frame, she took one last look at the wall. At everyday that she had spent waiting. At the end of the days of loneliness.

"You'll be with me?"

"_Always_."

She felt his presence disperse back into the force—as if he had taken a step back so that she could lead, but would stand by her side again when she needed him next. She smiled and stepped out into the dawn. A light motion from her hand and the sand slid back into place, burying the entrance. Letting old things rest.

On her cheek, she felt the touch of blazing morning light.

And she walked into the sunrise.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Things I was trying to accomplish with this story:

1) Reminding myself that "no one is ever really gone"

2) I loved 99% of The Rise of Skywalker. No prizes for figuring out which 1% made me really sad. I truly love the movie, but when I got home I had trouble processing Ben's death. This story is me helping myself process it. It's not a rewriting (I want to accept canonical events.) It is an extra scene constructed to remind me that death in Star Wars—especially for Force users—is not the end. When I saw him die, I forgot that the end of the movie is the end of his life but not the end of his existence. Ultimately, he chose the light and he rejoined the force. (Anakin also chose the light and rejoined the force in the remastered version of The Return of the Jedi). I can't see why Ben wouldn't be able to communicate with Rey the same way all of the Jedi from the past can. (P.S. Anakin was one of the voices that encouraged Rey at the end of the movie)

3) Also, I like thinking that he's with his mother again.

4) I also wanted to show that when Rey needs the other half of her dyad (like when she is remembering her loneliness) he'll still be there for her.

Let me know what you think of the story, especially if it helped anyone else process the end in a more positive way.

Please do leave a review. I would appreciate it immensely!

If also love to know if there are any parts that are written awkwardly, or don't have a good balance of external action/internal thought. Unless otherwise noted, future revisions to this story will be editing. I usually take more than a day to write and post things, but I felt like posting this one sooner rather than later.

Best,

KaKiara


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